Quote

And so Nat stood up and joined the group, and followed, and watched, and awaited his chance as the light of Chaos lit the plain and gods and demons marched to war.

Joanne Harris

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Joanne Harris
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: July 3
Author
Novelist
Writer
War
Watched
Light
Demon
Awaited
Stood
Marched
Gods
Lit
Chaos
Demons
Group
Joined
Groups
Plain
Chance
Followed

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I'm not fond of cities: the constant activity and swarms of people.
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Death should be a celebration. Like a birthday. I want to go up like a rocket when my time comes, and fall down in a cloud of stars, and hear everyone go: ahh!
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I carried recipes in my head like maps.
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Life is what you celebrate. All of it. Even its end.
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A little tantrum in real life seems so much bigger online.
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I sell dreams, small comforts, sweet harmless temptations to bring down a multitude of saints crashing among the hazels and nougatines
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Our lives are like these things I make. Turn 'em, build 'em, bake 'em in fire. That's what you've been, son. Baked and fired. But a pot don't have the right to choose whether he be for water, wine, or just left empty. You have, son. You have.
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I speak as I must and cannot be silent.
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Happiness. Simple as a glass of chocolate or tortuous as the heart. Bitter. Sweet. Alive.
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Clones fit in. Freaks stand out. Ask me which one I prefer.
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One of the things that writing has taught me is that fiction has a life of its own. Fictional places are sometimes more real than the view from our bedroom window. Fictional people can sometimes become as close to us as our loved ones.
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You don't write because someone sets assignments! You write because you need to write, or because you hope someone will listen or because writing will mend something broken inside you or bring something back to life.
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The dead know everything but they don't give a damn.
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Children are knives, my mother once said. They don’t mean to, but they cut. And yet we cling to them, don’t we, we clasp them until the blood flows.
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Everything comes home, my mother used to say every word spoken, every shadow cast, every footprint in the sand. It can't be helped it's part of what makes us who we are.
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But I rather thought--I mean, I heard you'd killed Balder the Fair. I never did, snapped Loki crossly. Well, no one ever proved I did. What happened to the presumption of innocence? Besides, he was supposed to be invulnerable. Was it my fault that he wasn't?
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I can write absolutely anywhere. All I need is a laptop.
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Change isn't always comfortable, but it is a fact of life.
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I am fascinated by how people eat and what it reveals about them.
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I've never been very good at leaving things behind. I tried, but I have always left fragments of myself there too, like seeds awaiting their chance to grow.
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